Family Counseling With the Dursleys
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: Harry finds it hilarious when cousin Dudley is forced to attend therapy sessions with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. However, it's not funny when it is decided that Harry come along, too. Vernon: happy? Petunia: angry? Harry: trusted? Dudley... a liberal?
1. If I Go, Harry Goes!

**AN: **First of all, I was inspired by my friend's fic called _Weasley Family Therapy_. His pen name is needles. READ IT. It's a great story—really zany and crazy. I wanted to do a different sort of therapy session, with a different family and a different therapist. Most of this is utterly foolish, one of my oh-look-I'm-almost-canon fics. The plot bunnies are breeding. Bear with me. Please?

* * *

--

**FAMILY COUNSELING WITH THE DURSLEYS**

**--**

**One: If I Go, Harry Goes!**

**--**

"But we don't _have _any problems!" whined Dudley Dursley piteously, between mouthfuls of cookies he was eating sloppily out of a box. "We're _normal. _We don't _need _counseling." He paused. "Only _Harry _should have to go!"

His mother, Petunia, cringed at the amount of snacks he was piling into his mouth (he was still supposed to be on a close diet) but sighed in sympathy. "We _are _normal, sweetums. But your father and I decided, with the help of your school nurse, your boxing coach, your headmaster, the neighbors…" Petunia looked worried but continued: …"that this would be for the very, very best." She simpered slightly, and headed toward the sink to wash dishes.

"Well…" Dudley trailed off and licked his fingers to make certain he didn't miss any crumbs. "Well… I _still _shouldn't have to go."

In the corner of the kitchen, Dudley's black-haired cousin Harry Potter stood watching the scene amusedly. "Oh come on, Dudley, electroshock therapy is _fun," _he said dryly.

Dudley's blue eyes widened considerably, and he wheeled his bulk around to face Harry with a glare. "Electro-_what?"_

"It's great, Duds," Harry said casually. He lowered his voice to a whisper: "_They hook wires into your brain and zap it! _Of course, it isn't a nice feeling for people that actually _have _brains, but I think you'll find it enjoyable."

Dudley stared at his cousin, attempting to understand what the boy had just said. "Wait!" he muttered, and then: "_Mum!" _Harry grinned.

Petunia waved a dirty frying pan at Harry. "You hush now, Potter! You have more issues than I can count on all of my fingers and toes—"

"He called me _stupid—" _Dudley complained.

"I know, Duddlykins, but you aren't, you're perfect! He's a mean, mean boy—"

"Not mean enough for therapy!" Harry stated triumphantly.

"I don't _need _to go!" Dudley insisted, setting the cookies down in favor of a piece of leftover pastry on the counter.

"I know, sweetie," Petunia smiled, eying her son a bit wearily. "Don't you think you should eat a few… carrot sticks?" she offered weakly; it was what the nurse had told her to say.

Dudley appeared to be deaf for a moment, and stuck the whole doughnut in his mouth.

"Eat away your problems, that's right!" Harry encouraged. "Oh, your counselor is going to _love _you!"

"I DON'T NEED A COUNSELOR!" Dudley growled tersely in a very loud tone of voice. "But Harry does," he added quite calmly, looking at his mother, wondering why she wasn't doing anything.

Petunia nodded in approval. "Yes, honey, but _he _needs to deal with _his _problems on _his _own. We needn't interfere with _his _thoughts." She cast Harry a critical glower. Harry attempted to look threatening by raising up both eyebrows and baring his teeth.

"Harry _has_ to go," Dudley said bluntly, giving a relaxed nod toward Harry's strange facial expression, as though this were a sure indication of a need for therapy.

Harry sighed and slid down the wall.

"Duddy, I don't think—"

"MAKE HARRY GO!!" Dudley asserted loudly, and stomped his foot, which made a ridiculously great bang on the kitchen linoleum.

Harry kept sliding, having nearly reached the floor.

"Dudley—"

The blond boy glared forcefully at his mother. "If I go, Harry goes."

"You're kidding!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up again. "You wouldn't make me come, would you, Aunt Petunia?" He made a face. "I mean, er, you wouldn't _let _me come… that is."

But Petunia was not a mother to deny her son of his wants. "I think… that would be fine," she said, but Harry knew she was going to regret having agreed to this, being that having him attend as well would cost them more money. And in the Dursleys' opinion, Harry was not worth more than a few pieces of lint and a moldy block of brie. However, mental health facilities do not accept decaying cheese and mothballs as forms of payment.

She tapped out of the kitchen, and Dudley grinned devilishly at Harry:

"Not going to be so smart without your brain, are you?" he challenged.

--


	2. Crazy

--

**Chapter Two: Crazy**

**--**

Harry laughed generously into his armpit, watching from the bathroom doorway as Petunia piled glob after glob of hair gel onto her son's head. She swiped his hair one way, then the other, as though he were her masterpiece painting. Finally, she stood back and smiled.

"There's my boy!" she cheered.

Dudley groaned. She had succeeded in making him look twelve years old again. "_Mum," _he whined.

"Dudders, you look nice!" Petunia insisted, kissing him on the cheek. "It's very chic."

Although Dudley was less of a thug than he had been the previous summer, _chic _was still a word which he did not want applied to himself. The second his mother left, he savagely set it in spikes.

"Good," said Harry encouragingly, whose own tresses were always very fanatical above his head. "We can be twins, then."

Dudley took the hint and made an effort to tone down his hair considerably. Chic was better than being Harry's twin, after all. He ended up compromising with his mother and came out of the bathroom looking fourteen.

Petunia wanted to make a very good impression, so she told Dudley to dress in a full suit. He protested in a slightly extreme way, like you might see in a very liberal parade, and threw his radio out the window. This resulted in his only having to wear a dress shirt and a tie.

As usual, he was made to parade in front of the mantle, while his father took pictures. Harry wondered why on earth they'd want to remember the day their son got referred to a psychiatrist.

"When she sees how sweet you are, she'll know that all of those complaints were lies," warbled Petunia. "Doesn't he look sweet, Vernon?"

"He looks just like a Dursley!" said Vernon, Dudley's father, thickly.

_Click! _said the camera.

"Can I _move _now?" Dudley demanded, for his leg was asleep.

--

"_You be on your best behavior,"_ hissed Vernon to Harry as soon as the family reached their car.

Harry nodded. This was nothing new.

"_I'm warning you, you'd better not speak unless you're addressed, and no details. There are only a few group family sessions and a couple single ones, and if that doctor tells me you've been speaking about your hobbly-jobbly magic or your dead godfather the murderer or anything unnatural, I'll make certain you feel my wrath!" _

Vernon waved his large finger at Harry's nose. "_No funny business. Nothing about the cupboard._"

Harry mouthed the words along with his uncle. He could quote this speech in his head, as he'd had it delivered to him almost every day before nursery school.

However, this time, it had a new twist:

"And no blowing up the psychiatrist!" Vernon declared in a bark. "I'm paying good money for these sessions and I don't need to be sued for all I'm worth!"

"Is Dudley's counselor like Aunt Marge, then?" Harry wanted to know. "Because if she is, I might be psychologically forced to relive that event." He paused. "It's a clinical disorder," he added quickly.

Vernon shot him a dirty look, and opened the car door.

Harry got into the back seat and pressed himself against the window, as to be as far away from Dudley as possible. Luckily, Dudley had the very same idea, so neither was offended.

The first couple of minutes in the car, everyone was silent, save for Vernon humming "_Danny Boy" _in an off-key tone and honking at other drivers. And then, Dudley leaned forward:

"It doesn't _hurt _does it?" he wondered aloud, and sent Harry a nasty glance as to threaten him out of laughing.

Harry smashed his face deeper onto the glass so that his chortling came out like squeaks.

Petunia turned around, worried and wide-eyed. "Why _no, _Dudders, it doesn't hurt _at all."_

"_Save for the mental tests. If you don't pass, they chop off your tongue!" _Harry whispered.

Dudley looked fearful; he'd all ready had an engorged tongue, but he'd prefer it to not having one to speak of.

"It's nothing for tough blokes like you or I to worry about, son!" Vernon chimed in merrily, making a wrong turn and turning the car around dangerously in the middle of a busy intersection. They almost plowed into a turn-about.

"With any luck, she'll see that you're perfectly fine, and that all of those terrible people are just liars!" Petunia put in, but she seemed determined to convince even herself.

"Well, what do I have to do?" Dudley wanted to know.

"_Make a pact with Satan and walk through hot coals!" _Harry said.

Dudley glared at him. "Yeah, right."

"It's simple, really, honey," Petunia smiled softly. "You'll just have to fill Doctor Johannson in on the… er, issues of the past years. And explain your feelings."

"_My feelings?"_ Dudley questioned, and turned white as a sheet. He might have passed out if Harry hadn't have poked him in the shoulder. He snapped back to life and trod on Harry's small foot with his own large one. Harry bit back the tears of pain and gripped the armrest as Vernon wove in and out of traffic.

"Dear, you've missed the turn!" said Petunia sweetly, and her husband flipped into a parking lot to the left and swerved out into traffic with a squeal of the brakes. Another right, and they had arrived.

Harry, Dudley and Petunia looked rather green in the face, but Vernon chuckled merrily. "Got to be aggressive these days, am I correct, Dudders?"

Dudley didn't reply—he was trying to acclimate.

--

The waiting room was painted in a merry, bright blue colour, and the walls showcased paintings of gardenias and roses. Harry and Dudley sat along the side of the room and watched as patients went in and out of the main door.

"That was most definitely a crazy person," Harry whispered, as a teenage girl left. "She talks to herself."

Dudley watched her intently, as though memorizing what the signs of insanity were.

"That wasn't," Harry said, pointing out a little boy with a teddy bear," everyone just _thinks _he's crazy, but his bear can really talk, they just don't believe him."

An elderly man walked past.

"Is he crazy?" Dudley wanted to know.

"Of course," said Harry," isn't it obvious?"

Dudley looked perplexed, and pretended to flip through a children's magazine, all the while glancing over the top of it to see if any more crazy people came out.

The door opened, and a good-looking woman wearing glasses and brandishing a clipboard emerged.

"Crazy?" asked Dudley.

"The craziest of the lot," Harry answered.

"Ah!" said the woman, her eyes falling upon the two boys, and then Vernon and Petunia who were seated across the way. "You must be the Dursley family!" She strode forward. "My name is Evette Johannson, and I'm to be your mediator." She chuckled.

Dudley eyed Harry wildly. _'Therapists can't be crazy!' _he thought.

"Come on back," she smiled, and gestured with a wink.

--

Dr. Johannson's office was even merrier than the waiting room. It was yellow, after all, and there were puppets on a shelf. **YOU ARE GREAT! **proclaimed a framed poster. There was a jar of candy on her desk, along with a stuffed animal dog that looked as though it had seen better days.

Harry instantly felt sorry for this woman. She obviously meant well, and now, she was in charge of righting the most unpleasant boy on the earth. Harry knew it was just a matter of time before Dudley forced her to quit with his disagreeable ways. He wanted to warn her: _'Stop! These people are demented! Stop! Turn around while you still can!'_

But Doctor Johannson's bright smile showed no indication of turning back. "So," she said calmly, looking at her notes," you must be Dudley."

Dudley, who was attempting to look small with no avail, nodded.

"Hullo, Dudley," she said. "And you must be his parents!" she exclaimed cheerily, shaking both of their hands. "You must be so proud!"

Vernon and Petunia exchanged glances. "Why yes," said Petunia," we are!"

The therapist smiled in that serene way.

Harry snickered. This _must _be some sort of tactic.

Doctor Johannson's head jerked to Harry's direction. "And _you _must be Dudley's cousin. Harold, is it?"

"Er, yes, Harry," he corrected. "Nice to meet you."

The woman looked at him strangely. "Indeed," she said, and wrote a note on her clipboard.

"You really don't need to speak with him," Vernon put in briskly," he's here as an observer, really, my son felt it unfair that he should be the only one having to go, you know how kids are—"

Doctor Johannson made a face that indicated she knew nothing about how kids are. "I see," she said, "but perhaps through Harold—_Harry_, we can find a way to calm things down considerably at your home. Wouldn't that be nice?" She folded her arms and waited for a response.

'_Calm things down?' _thought Harry.

"Uh…" Vernon and Petunia looked at each other again. "I suppose it would—"

"The boy is a liar, though!" Petunia exclaimed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I am _not."_

The doctor smiled. "Ah. I see we have a disagreement. Now, Petunia, why don't you tell me your side of the matter?"

Petunia's eyes filled with emotion. "He and our Dudders don't have the best relationship—"

"I'll say!" Harry said.

"Please, Harold, no interruptions."

Harry sighed loudly.

"He has a complete disregard for our household rules!" Petunia said darkly," he comes in at late hours, talks back to Vernon and myself, and constantly makes our Dudley feel unwanted in his own home!"

"Is this true, Dudley?" asked Doctor Johannson.

Dudley looked from Harry to Petunia to his father to the doctor as though he had no idea who to side with. It wasn't that he had qualms about making Harry out to be the bad guy, but he wasn't quite sure yet about his therapist's intentions.. He shrugged.

Doctor Johannson jotted something down on her clipboard.

"May I say something?" asked Harry crisply.

"Go right ahead," said the doctor just as crisply, and smiled.

"Er. Right." He turned to his aunt. "Right, so, no offense, but first off, _what _household rules? I mean, aren't we _here _because of your _lack _of household rules?"

Vernon was turning violet.

"Right," Harry said again. "Just checking, wanted to be clear."

"WE HAVE RULES, BOY!" Vernon shouted. He turned to the doctor. "Look, I apologize for my nephew, he's very disturbed."

"I see," said the therapist again. "Well, _do _you have household rules?"

"Of course," Vernon nodded. "I'm a firm believer in rules and rule-following."

"Of course!" echoed Petunia.

The doctor smiled. "What do you think, Dudley?"

Dudley blinked. He'd been tuning everyone out, and instead had been focusing on the jar of candy atop his counselor's desk. "Huh?"

"Do _you _think that there are rules at home?" Doctor Johannson asked.

"I guess," said Dudley, with another shrug. "I mean, they tell me to brush my teeth and things like that."

Harry snorted, and when Vernon glared at him, he pretended he was having a coughing fit.

"How often are you made to clean your room, Dudley?" asked the counselor.

Dudley raised his eyebrows. "Clean my room? You mean dust and the whole bit?"

"Yes. How often are told to do that?"

"Never!" Dudley exclaimed, like this was a foolish question.

Petunia patted his shoulder. "I have always firmly believed that boys shouldn't be made to do chores. It's just not right."

"Oh," Harry said dryly," so now I'm a woman as _well _as being disturbed?"

Vernon elbowed him.

"What do you _mean, _Harold?" smiled the therapist.

"Well, not being sexist or anything, but actually, what Aunt Petunia said was sexist in itself, but anyway…" Harry had lost his train of thought. "Oh! Yeah, what I was referring to was the fact that I do chores at the house."

"And Dudley doesn't?"

"Nope," Harry replied.

"Do you do any chores, Dudley?"

Dudley stopped looking at the candy. "Uh, yes, I take my plate to the kitchen when dinner's over sometimes."

"Nicely done!" congratulated Harry.

"And what chores do _you _do, Harold?"

"Well, once I scrubbed the toilet with my own toothbrush as a punishment for having bangs that fell in front of my eyes," Harry said. "Of course, that wasn't a regular chore, because usual I scrub the toilet with a sponge."

The therapist jotted something down again.

Vernon elbowed Harry again.

Dudley tried to quit looking at the jar of candy.

Petunia looked worried. "_Should _Dudders be doing chores?"

"Who is Dudders?" asked Doctor Johannson.

"_Dudley!" _Petunia exclaimed.

"Oh," answered the therapist. "I see." She wrote something else down.

"Well?" Petunia said impatiently.

"Well what?"

"Well, should he be doing chores?"

"I don't know," replied Doctor Johannson. "_Should _he?"

The family eyed each other worriedly.

"Right," said the doctor brightly. "That would be the end of our first session. Next, I'd like to see Dudley solo. How's this Tuesday work for you, Dudley?"

"Uh—yeah," Dudley nodded. "Sure."

"His days are quite open," Harry said," as he doesn't have to clean the toilet."

The therapist smiled in that odd sort of way and shook everyone's hand. She shook Dudley's twice. "I think we are going to have a great time getting to know each other, Dudley," she said. "I like you all ready."

--

"She likes you, Duds," Harry commented dryly as soon as Petunia and Vernon were working out the details of payment at the front desk in the waiting room. "She must enjoy the company of swine."

"Be quiet, Harold," Dudley announced triumphantly.

--


	3. Marine Biology and Other Matters

**AN: **Thanks for the reviews, alerts and favs! More! More! (Yes, I _am _Dudleyish.)

--

**Three: Marine Biology and Other Matters**

**--**

As soon as Harry and the Dursleys had piled into their van and were on the road, Vernon wheeled around, looking wild. Petunia had to steer for him.

"_You," _he sputtered at his nephew.

"Me, what?" Harry asked bitterly. He had been expecting this.

"_You promised me you wouldn't speak of anything off!"_

"I didn't!" Harry declared. "Toilets aren't _off, _they're a common part of living."

Dudley cracked up laughing.

Vernon wasn't so amused: "Don't get smart with me, boy! You—"

--"I didn't say _anything _about the cupboard, I didn't mention magic, I spoke after I'd been addressed, I didn't give _many _details, and I didn't talk once about murdering godfathers." Harry shrugged his shoulders as though apologizing for Vernon's rash judgment.

Vernon's mustache seemed to tingle with hatred, but he flipped around just in time to make a sharp turn. Petunia shrieked.

"I'm not going to lie to make you look okay," Harry said simply. "I come of age in a month and you'll never have to see my shining face again, so this summer, I am going to just _be. _And I wouldn't tell a therapist lies, anyway, that's probably illegal somewhere."

Everyone could hear the wheels in Vernon's head turning, even under his bushy black hair. "Well, in your lone sessions, you best watch your tongue!"

"I'll say what I please!"

"Not with me paying for it!"

Harry purposefully bonked his own head against the window. _"What do you want me to do?"_

"I want you—" Vernon stopped short. It was obvious Harry's question startled him. Never before had Harry asked his uncle what he wanted to do, like a self-assured adult! Vernon tried to hide his pleasure, but Harry could see that his uncle was much more agreeable when everyone pretended to succumb to him. "I want you to make Dudley out to be as normal as he truly is, so that we can stop these bogus therapy sessions and get on with our damned lives!"

"Ah," Harry nodded, throwing Dudley a casual glance. "So you want me to act like Dudley's _not _crazy!" He gave a very exaggerated wink.

"Wha--?" spat his cousin. "But—I'm not!"

"I know you're not!" Harry said loudly and cheerfully, with a plastered-on smile.He cleared his throat and turned back to face Vernon's beady eyes in the mirror. "Uh… so pretty much, you're telling me I can't say anything about magic."

Petunia and Vernon nodded.

"And you want me to gloss over my life as to make all of you seem like good, kind people," Harry said.

They nodded again, but less enthusiastically, as they were trying to differentiate between the possibility of this being an insult or simply an error of judgment.

Harry smiled again, in that same artificial way. "_Great! _I'll do it._"_

Vernon almost crashed the car.

--

"Well, I guess this means it'sTuesday," Harry remarked dryly, from where he was sitting in the yard under one of the hydrangea bushes. "Going to get your electroshock therapy, Dudley?"

The blond boy wheeled around, and looked about to see where the voice was coming from. He finally saw Harry, and lumbered over, folding his arms and looking suspicious. "Why do you always sit in the dirt?" he asked.

Harry had no response to give, so he ignored the question. "Have fun defending your sanity!" he snapped.

"No, really," said Dudley slowly, looking worried. "Why do you sit outside the window?" He walked closer to evaluate the angle from which his cousin was lying. All he could see was that Petunia was in the living room dusting. "Are you like… _spying _on Mum?"

"_No Dudley," _Harry sighed. "I was hiding out here so that no stupid oafs would come over and talk to me. But I guess my plan was foiled."

Dudley squinted his eyes in the sunlight. "Why? Who found you?"

Harry started cracking up and rolling back and forth. "You _astound _me!" he shouted.

"Oh _God. _You're crazy," Dudley said, shaking his head and walking toward the family van.

"So says the one heading off to therapy."

"Yeah, but I'm _not _crazy! You said it yourself!"

Harry sighed. "Actually, I was lying. You _are._ But I thought it would be rude to say so in front of your mum and dad."

"I'm _not," _Dudley insisted, and waved the car keys at Harry in what he hoped was a threatening manner. _Jingle. Jingle. _"I'm not," he repeated, blue eyes wide. He got in the car and drove away before Harry could convince him otherwise.

--

"Dudley!" exclaimed Doctor Johannson, when he was escorted into her office by the dumpy secretary. She remained sitting and gestured to one of the squashy chairs. "Have a seat!"

He obeyed, but said nothing, eying her warily. He noticed that she was wearing quite a short skirt. One thin leg was crossed over the other.

She coughed and he snapped back to attention. He figured it was safer to stare at the candy jar instead.

"How was your week?" she asked cheerily, but shifted her legs.

Dudley shifted his own legs, like a much larger, male mirrored image. _'Am I crazy?' _he wondered. He shrugged.

She jotted something down in her notes. "Come now, Dudley!" she said merrily," I want you to tell me three things you did this week."

"Nothing," he said. It was a good response to give adults.

But Doctor Johannson just smiled. "I _highly _doubt it. Are you meaning to tell me you stared at the clock all weekend?"

"Well, ah—" Dudley paused. _'Is this a trap?' _he wondered. "No…"

"Come on, then! Three things!"

"Uh." Dudley folded his hands and then unfolded them. "We went to the store?" he asked. He wasn't sure it was the right answer.

"Who is _we_?"

"Me and Mum."

"Where was Dad at?"

"Work," Dudley responded immediately.

"And your cousin?"

"I derno. Home?" Dudley shrugged. He stared at her. "I think?" He still wasn't sure what answer was right.

"I just _love _the store," she said, eyes shining. "What did you buy?"

'_She loves the store!?' _Dudley thought in wonder. This threw him off big time.

She smiled brighter. "What did you _buy, _Dudley?"

'_What did we buy!?' _Dudley thought frantically. _'That was way back. That was Saturday! What did we buy? Mum bought…' _

The therapist waited patiently.

"Laundry detergent!" Dudley burst out. He wasn't sure if they actually had, but it seemed like something Mum would buy.

"I _see," _she nodded. "Then did you do some wash?"

"No!" he burst out and then paused. _'Should I say yes instead?' _He didn't want to do any chores, but he also didn't want Mum to get into trouble. "I—"

"Have you ever done laundry, then?"

Dudley went quiet. "No?" he asked, shrugging.

The therapist only smiled. "You _lucky _boy!" she exclaimed, but he had a feeling something was up. "Right, so you've told me on thing you did. Name two more."

"Well, I beat—" Dudley stopped. He _definitely _wasn't supposed to talk about _that. _As far as Mum and Dad knew, the neighbors were lying when they called and said he pummeled their children around. "I mean." He shrugged, once again defeated. Being quick on the uptake was not one of his strong points.

The doctor smiled warmly, her eyes glowing in a way that reminded Dudley of uttermost evil. "Beat what? An egg?" She chuckled darkly. "Beat what, Dudley?"

Well, now she certainly had him in a corner. He was blushing, and if he said he didn't know, she'd think he was referring to beating something _private, _and on top of everything else, he didn't need **that **in his records. Dudley ruffled the front of his bangs. "I beat up this kid," he said nonchalantly, as though it was a fad that everyone did.

Doctor Johannson smiled more brightly. "Well, _that's _certainly something! Was he a wee fellow?"

"Yeah," Dudley grinned, loosening up a bit," pretty little, like fourteen or somethin'. New kid, right?"

"Right," she winked. "Those new kids. Always so weird."

"Totally!" he agreed, nodding. _'This lady is hella,' _he thought.

"Well, what did the little bastard do to you?" she asked.

Dudley raised an eyebrow. "You can _say _that?"

"What?"

He looked around. "_The b-word."_

"Sure!" she exclaimed. "This is my office. I make my own rules."

'_I want an office!' _Dudley decided. He wondered if his parents could buy him one. "Cool," he said approvingly, but gruff enough so that she didn't sense how jealous he was of her office.

"Yes, so?"

"So?"

"What did he do?"

"What did _who _do?"

"The little bastard!"

"Oh, right," Dudley nodded. "He was poking fun at how I look is all."

The therapist paused in writing her notes. "How so?"

"You know, saying I was fat. It happens a lot."

"It _does?"_

"Well, _yeah!" _Dudley exclaimed. "I'm not some little twig!" _'Is this woman blind?'_

She stared at him. "Well, I should hope _not. _If you were a twig, someone could snap you in half!"

It was Dudley's turn to stare at _her. 'What? Snap me in half?' _"Anyway," he said loudly, "it wasn't that big a deal."

"Why would it be?" she prodded.

"I—" he paused. "I dunno!" He was beginning to get very flustered.

"When people call you fat, do you always react by beating them up?"

Dudley thought about it. "It depends on the person. Some people I just throw rocks at, but that's kind of old school now. This is the first ass I've kicked this summer. I didn't really mean to, either, I guess. I useta' all the time."

"Well, have you ever tried asking them to stop?"

"That takes too much time!" Dudley declared.

"I understand," said the woman seriously, and wrote something down.

"Well, I guess with _Harry_ it's different, 'cause I don't beat him up but I don't ask him to stop either. Mostly I just say stuff back to him about how dorky he is. But he hasn't been too mean this summer." Dudley shrugged.

"Does he usually make fun of your weight?"

"Oh _yeah!" _Dudley nodded. "He thinks I'm the size of a baby killer whale. I read it in a letter to his friend once. But I looked it up on the internet and I'm not _really _that big, but I do weigh more than a dolphin."

Doctor Johannson looked momentarily confused. "Are you interested in Marine Biology, then?"

"Hell no," Dudley said. "I just like proving him wrong."

"But this summer has been better for the two of you?"

"Pretty much. I mean, he's less of a freak than usual."

"What about you?"

Dudley squinted. "What _about _me?" he challenged.

She smiled. "Nothing." She looked at the red clock on the wall. "Blimey! Time's all ready up! Thank you so much for coming in today, Dudley! It was most definitely a fascinating time."

"Wait…" Dudley didn't move. "I thought—" he grinned mischievously and stood up. _'She forgot I was supposed to say THREE things about my week! HAHA, I fixed her!'_

He laughed about it all the way home.

* * *


	4. Karl, Mouse and Pigsly

**AN:** Hey, sorry for the long wait. I'm also sorry because this is probably the most disturbing thing I've ever written! Heh. Uh. Really! REVIEW!!! And... I hope it's not too angsty; it kind of depressed me.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Karl, Mouse and Pigly**

* * *

"THINK FAST!" shouted Harry, opening Dudley's bedroom door with one hand and tossing a stack of Polo shirts in like he was throwing a quaffle. 

Dudley looked up from where he was sitting at the computer just as the shirts came flying into view; he tried to duck, but it was too late. The shirts landed in his lap, on his shoulders, and one of a pale blue variety landed on his head. "_Harry!" _he whined. "_They can't be wrinkled!" _He grabbed a fistful of shirts loathingly and glared at the dark-haired boy.

"That's what you get for letting other people do your laundry!"

Dudley made a face. "WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT ABOUT THAT?"

"Apparently something, or else you wouldn't be using a word as long as _wrinkled_!"

"I—uh—" Dudley blinked, and decided against replying to something he didn't understand. Instead, he threw a handful of shirts back at Harry's face. "TAKE THAT!"

"Uh oh! Dudley Dursley strikes back!" Harry announced with a grin, throwing one of the shirts back. It fell short and landed at Dudley's feet.

"OH SNAPS!" Dudley hooted, pointing at Harry.

They both cracked up.

However, at that moment, Vernon appeared behind Harry, glaring and holding the phone. "It's for you, Dudley," he said, and stared down at Harry menacingly. "Shouldn't you be in your room?"

"Fun's over," remarked Harry dryly, and sidled away.

"_That boy,"_ muttered Vernon, giving a strange look at the shirts all over the floor and stepping gingerly over them. "Here you are, Dudley," he said, handing over the phone.

Dudley glared at his father as soon as the man turned his back. "Yeah?" he said loudly into the phone.

"Dudley!" exclaimed a woman's voice.

"Aunt _Marge?" _he sighed in disdain.

"No!" said the jovial voice.

"Oh." Aunt Marge was the only woman's voice he was accustomed to hearing on the phone, besides Mum's. And as far as he knew, Mum was downstairs making a steak and kidney pie. However... things happen. "Mum?" Dudley asked. "Why are you out? Where you calling from? Why aren't you making dinner!?"

"It's not Mum!" the voice said merrily. "It's Dr. Johannson, Dudley!"

Dudley went scarlet. "OH!" he burst out. _'Did I say anything bad?' _he thought wildly. "…Hey."

"Hi, Dudley! How are you?" she asked.

"Uh. Good." He wrapped the phone cord around his huge fingers and clicked out of the nasty bikini pictures he was looking at on the web. For some reason, he had the feeling she could see them, too.

"Our session last week went very well. When can I meet with you again?"

"I… anytime, I guess." Dudley looked around his room cautiously. He wondered if she could also see the Playboy posters he had, and if she knew he liked music that had a lot of _naughty words, _as Mum put it.

"I'd like to meet with both you and Harold this time."

Dudley sat upright. "Oh!" he said.

"You sound a little panicked."

"Naw," he said, and forced a laugh. "Nope. No. Not at all!" He swallowed hard.

"So it's okay?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah!"

"Great! How about this Wednesday, at four?"

"And this is together?"

"Yes—"

"With Harry?"

"Yes, it will be a group session, if you will."

"Right," said Dudley bitterly.

"Does Wednesday work for Harold?"

"Probably. He doesn't do anything but talk to himself and kick things in his room. It works."

--

"If you say anything bad about me, I'll make sure you pay!"

"What are we, Dudley? Five years old? Make me _pay?"_

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!"

"I think you just spat on my shirt…"

"Oh. Sorry."

"Right, it's okay. Anyway, what are you so scared about?"

"I'M NOT SCARED! I just don't want you saying I'm crazy… or that… I beat kids up and stuff…"

"But you _do, _Dudley!"

"I KNOW! But she can't know how much."

"Are you kidding? She can only know a _little_ bit about it?"

"YEAH! It kinda slipped last time, but she didn't seem to care. But still, I don't want it coming up again."

"You're really weird," Harry said, shaking his head. "You have severe issues."

"Don't tell me about _my_ issues! YOU have issues!"

"I KNOW! But at least I can admit it!"

Dudley leaned back in the driver's seat and ruffled his bangs. "Look, Harry. If I get in trouble, then Mum and Dad will know."

"Know you're a bully?"

"Yeah! Well… that I _was. _I'm not really a bully all the time anymore."

"Oh," said Harry thoughtfully. "Only on the weekends?"

"Huh?"

"Just kidding. Anyway, you should tell her the truth. Or, at least something that's _almost _the truth."

"Why?"

"Because," Harry said happily with a wide grin," when you tell the truth, the whole world smiles!"

Dudley grinned back, but in a leering way. "Get out of my car, freak."

--

"Hello, Harold," greeted the therapist, beckoning them in and clicking out of her computer screen. "What's up, Dudley?"

Dudley and Harry gave each other a Look. Dudley couldn't tell if she was talking jive to get him to relate to her, or not. One thing was certain: Therapy was confusing. However, Dudley had no idea…

As soon as he and Harry sat down, Dr. Johannson shook their hands and began the session. "Today, we're going to try a special exercise."

"EXERCISE?" Dudley screamed, looking severely pissed off.

"A _talking _exercise!" corrected the doctor.

Harry started coughing really hard to hide his laughter. He pounded himself in the chest. "Sorry; excuse me."

"Oh good. I don't like the other kind," said Dudley.

"Me either," she nodded. "It sucks."

Harry's eyes widened a bit but he said nothing.

"And so," the doctor continued, reaching under her desk and pulling out a red plastic bin, setting it on her lap," we are going to have a little talk. However, we get to use…" she paused dramatically.

Harry and Dudley waited.

And waited. Dudley scratched his shoulder. Harry twiddled his thumbs.

She popped the top off the bin with a snap. "PUPPETS!"

Dudley and Harry gave each other a Look, and then peered into the box. Sure enough, there were enough puppets to feed an army—that is, if people could get nutritional value out of cloth and stuffing, but that's how many there were.

"What the fuck?" Dudley asked, and then said, "er, rather, what in the heck?"

Harry snorted.

"I know, I know… toys are for kids, right?" the counselor beamed.

Dudley and Harry blinked at her.

"WRONG!" she shouted. "Everyone can use puppets, and they work really well in sessions because you can get out your feelings—" Dudley made a bitter face—"without _having _to show what you really mean." (His bitter face became a bit softer. He was not keen on feelings.)

"Er… what?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, I'm seconding that," Dudley nodded.

They looked at each other, horrified, and then quickly looked away. _'Oh snap, we agreed!' _Dudley thought. He got a shiver down his spine.

"Pick a puppet," said Dr. Johannson, "and then you can tell me some of the puppets' thoughts."

Harry snorted.

"Go on!" The doctor urged. "Pick any one you'd like! Then we'll have a nice little chat."

As though the bin were full of splinters and broken glass, Harry and Dudley hung back.

"Well, fine! Then, I get first pick!" she announced, reaching in and pulling out a large pink glittery unicorn puppet with plastic, glaring eyes and a wide mouth. She stuck her hand in it and swiveled its head around so that it was staring at the two boys. _"Hello!" _she said in a voice that was not her own. It was high and squeaky.

Dudley and Harry stared.

"I SAID _hello!" _she repeated. "I'm Karl, the unicorn, and I command you to say _hello _because I am in charge! _Neeeeigh!" _She made the unicorn rear its head.

"…hello?" Harry asked.

"'lo," muttered Dudley, blushing a deep pink and prodding the carpet with his toe. This was beyond frightening. Dad would erupt with rage if he saw he was paying a crazy woman to be a therapist.

"Well, that's better!" squealed Karl, the unicorn. "Now… where are my friends?" He nudged his head toward the box.

"Right," said Harry. He wondered what was scarier—Umbridge or this woman. Umbridge was an abusive, anti-liberal, insane, bullying toad-faced wackjob. This woman used a unicorn puppet named Karl and seemed to like Dudley… It was a hard decision. He decided he'd better humour her, as Dudley looked almost like he had when the Dementor tried to steal his soul. Harry reached into the puppets. There was a lobster, a fox, a cat, a fish, a pig, a duck with a straw hat… Harry shrugged and grabbed the pig, putting it over his hand.

Seeing that Harry had grabbed one of the stuffed toys first gave Dudley encouragement. He stared down at the options he'd been given… He felt rather stupid, but he thought he'd better do what this woman told him. She might have Karl gum his arm. He chose a very worn puppet of a mouse that had large eyes and a tear on its forehead. It was a struggle to get the thing over his massive hand but he finally succeeded.

"Right," said Karl. "I see we have some arrivals! Would you like to introduce yourselves?" The unicorn's head swiveled over to Dudley.

"Well… oh," grunted Dudley, staring down at the limp mouse on his hand. "I'm… er… Mouse."

Harry laughed.

"Mouse, you have a rather amazing habit of talking without moving your mouth!" said Karl.

"Oh," mouthed Mouse. "Right. Forgot. Er."

"And you?" questioned Karl, swiveling to look at Harry.

"Pigly," said Harry, making sure to move the mouth. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

For some reason, Dudley shot him a very dirty glare, but he ignored it.

"Thank you!" said Karl. "Now, Mouse, would you like to tell me something about yourself?"

"Uh. I'm a mouse, first off," said Dudley slowly. He'd never been good at imagining things. In nursery school, he'd mostly pushed smaller boys down in the mud. Whenever someone asked him to play a game like House, he'd hide in the cupboard. He didn't fancy playing husband to some girl—it made him feel weird and scared that he might have to simulate going to work. He did not like to work. _'What do mice do?' _he thought. "I am small," he went on," and…" He suddenly remembered a very interesting fact. "Even though I'm small, I can sometimes scare something bigger than me, like an elephant."

"Is that so?" asked Karl. "_Neigh! _What a brilliant fact! Thanks, Mouse, well done. Now, Pigly, was it? Can you contribute something?"

"I eat a lot," said Harry," and sit around all day and practically do nothing. And I'm rather fat."

"Well," said Dudley, still with that deathly glare," _I _am ALWAYS getting in peoples' ways! I make people pissed off and they chase me with brooms!"

"I eat anything you put in front of me," said Harry," I've been known to eat trash—"

"I'm disgusting. And full of diseases. And people do tests on me 'cause they just don't care about me!" Dudley fired back, clenching his teeth.

Harry was now irritated. "I SMELL!" he yelled.

Dudley narrowed his eyes and threw the mouse puppet onto the ground. "I do _not _smell," he growled. "Take that BACK!"

"Huh?" Harry asked. "I… wasn't—what?"

But Dudley was breathing hard and looking utterly offended. "You _always—" _he began but paused and shook his fist threateningly," you _always _do that!"

"Do what?" Harry snapped.

Dr. Johannson lowered Karl and smiled brightly. "That was lovely," she said. "Don't puppets teach us _a lot?"_

--

"I don't see what you're on about!" Harry declared. "It was a _stuffed toy_, honestly, Dudley—"

"That isn't the point, is it?" Dudley demanded, screeching around a corner.

"You're driving like Uncle Vernon," Harry hissed," maybe you should—"

"MAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST STOP IT!" Dudley yelled. He pulled into their driveway and glowered at his cousin. "Get out of my car!"

"It _isn't _yours—"

"So what!? GO!" Dudley shouted.

Harry sent him another strange look but did as he was told, because Dudley was glaring in such a frightening manner.

Dudley sighed, watching Harry go into the house. "I _don't _smell," he pouted. "And I don't just eat all the time!" He put his head on the steering wheel. "I wish Karl were here," he muttered, closing his eyes. Karl seemed to care!

* * *

**--**

**AN: **Karl says: "Neeeigh! Review!"


	5. The World, The World, The World

**AN: **Thanks for the reviews, favs, alerts, C2 adds, and such. Karl loves you.

* * *

**Chapter Five: The World, The World, The World**

* * *

"Don't see why we've got to be here," grumbled Vernon, though his voice was less annoyed and more uncomfortable. He pulled at the collar of his navy blue suit jacket and glanced around the cheery office.

"_Vernon,"_ snapped Petunia sharply under her breath, all the while smiling calmly, one long, thin leg poised over the other. "So nice to see you again," she said loftily.

Dr. Johannson looked up from her clipboard. "Really? Is it?" she inquired brightly.

Petunia and Vernon looked at each other. "Why… yes!" Petunia said, still smiling falsely, and sitting up in her chair, her neck looking even longer than usual.

"That's good to know! It's nice to see you again as well!" The doctor responded, lowering her notes. "Now, Mr. Dursley, you were wondering just a few seconds ago about why I decided to call the two of you in today—"

"No, he wasn't," smiled Petunia.

"Excuse me?" asked the therapist.

"My husband wouldn't say anything of the sort!" Petunia explained. "On the contrary, he is pleased to be here!"

"Is that right, Mr. Dursley?"

Vernon's eyes got a little wide. He fingered his black mustache. He really _didn't _want to be here. But he never wanted to upset Petunia. It was like the whole business with Harry. Vernon stilldidn't understand witchcraft, or Demendoids or Hogsbend, or whatever the flip Petunia had told them back when they'd first been engaged. He'd simply promised never to talk about it. And never to ask about it. Besides, what Petunia had told him didn't change how much he loved her. He'd always thought Lily was a nutter, even before he knew she was a witch.

Prior to the news, he'd just considered her a "hippie". Vernon had really had to be accepting in order to live through all of these years of hush-hush, Harry Potter, owls, letters, Dudley being thwarted by poisoned candy and invisible bogeymen… And he wasn't going to go against his wife now just because some wonky therapist wanted him to answer a question.

He shook his head. Then he nodded. "Yes, that's right," he said.

Petunia patted his knee.

"Good," Doctor Johannson said happily," because in family therapy, there is never just _one _client. Dudley may have been the family member who was referred to me, but in family therapy, _all _of the members are equally responsible for improving whatever problems are occurring—"

"Pardon me," Petunia said sweetly, but her eye twitched," but I really _don't _understand. We have absolutely no problems! Duddy is simply misunderstood, and we're here to prove he's innocent and clear his name!"

The doctor threw back her head and laughed. When she was through she winked merrily at Petunia. "Dear woman, your son isn't guilty of anything! He's committed no crimes. Yet," she added, and Petunia looked perplexed. "He simply needs to work out some issues he has, but please don't make this more complicated than it is. Dudley is experiencing a change in his life. He's all ready made progress, but I need your cooperation until my job is done."

Petunia, though rather annoyed that anyone would say her Dinky Duddydiddydums would have "issues", nodded vigorously. "Anything," she said enthusiastically. "I'll do anything to help my son!"

Vernon nodded. "Anything."

"Anything?" asked the doctor.

"Anything!" the Dursleys replied.

"Lovely," said the doctor, and flipped a page on her clipboard. "What can you tell me about your son?"

Both Petunia and Vernon brightened considerably. It was clear that this was one of their very favorite subjects.

"He's just the nicest little boy there ever was," began Petunia," he's never given me any trouble, always been polite and quiet at home, never brazen. He got into a prestigious academy, Smeltings--"

"--Proudest day of my life," sniffed Vernon— I was a Smelt meself, you see!"

"--and he's been top boxer for the past two years, and he never causes any trouble."

"—nothing more invigorating than getting your Smeltings Stick! Ha!"

"—and he tells me everything, and he has many little friends, and he's my wittle angel," Petunia finished in baby talk.

"You sound like you're very close to your son, Mrs. Dursley—"

"Oh yes!" Petunia affirmed. "Always."

The therapist smiled. "I suspect that's because you were raised in a loving house as well."

Vernon coughed into his hand. The room seemed to spin.

Petunia took a heavy breath. "_Well," _she said tersely. "It may have been lovable for _some people—"_

"Who?" asked the therapist, as Vernon attempted to catch her eye, to warn her of the terrors that lay ahead.

"My sister," Petunia went on," was the prize of the family. She was always beautiful, funny and smart, and I was just as good, but no one seemed to notice. She got special treatment, and I had to sit and watch while my parents adored her. I was sure it was because she had that_ pretty red hair. _So once, I even dyed mine!" Petunia clenched her chopped tresses. "But red clashed horribly with my bone structure! And everyone treated me just the same," she spat out bitterly. "And I vowed I'd never make my son go through what I did—"

"That's good," said the therapist," you both look quite charming as blondes."

Petunia pursed her lips and smoothed out her dress. "Are you being funny?"

"No, why? Anyway, that is interesting. How difficult it must have been for you, Mrs. Dursley."

Vernon patted his wife's knee. He knew this was _very_ hard for her, yet he wasn't quite sure what it had to do with Dudley. Dudley wasn't a witch, nor did he have red hair.

"And Mr. Dursley," the therapist started, shaking Vernon out of his confused thoughts. "Are you an only child like your son is?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I happen to have a sister by the name of Marjorie Anne."

"Both of you with sisters? Delightful! Which of you was the favorite, yourself or Marjorie?" asked the doctor.

"What?" Vernon sputtered, taken aback. "Well… neither, I suppose. Mother wasn't really the nuturing type—more of an 'all for themselves' lass, bless her heart." He chortled in discomfort. "She was upset with Marge for her love of bulldogs. _'Ye can't marry a pooch, Marjorie!'_ That's what she'd always say. _'You can't get a man smelling like a pooch, Marjorie!'_ Yes, sir, she'd say that from noon until night." He twisted his mustache. "She was also foolish enough to advise me against becoming a drill salesman. I started the Drill Lovers Alliance at Smeltings in my day _and _became the president, and she told me, '_Vernon,_' she says, _'you're making me look like a twit!'_" He paused. "I was the only member, you see." He shrugged. "But that didn't stop me! And now, look! I'm rising to the top! I'm showing her!" he announced, throwing his hands up into the air. He suddenly looked inspired. "I know what I'd do if she were alive!" he announced. "I'D SELL HER A DRILL!"

"Yes, you would, darling," Petunia said with a nod.

"Exciting!" agreed the doctor, writing something down in her notes.

Vernon suddenly became quite driven: "Would _you _like a Grunnings drill? Best drills in the world, can't ask for a better handle! They come in all colours now, too, though that wasn't _my _idea, it was—"

The doctor clapped her hands. "Mr. Dursley, I would _love _a drill."

--

"Pet, there's nothing wrong with keeping Dudley in those sessions!" Vernon declared, still beaming six hours later. "I quite like that woman!"

"Vernon!" Petunia exclaimed in a harsh tone. "_Vernon. _Just because she took one of your _drills _does not mean Dudders needs to be sent back there—"

Dudley and Harry were pressed up against the door in the kitchen, which was very reminiscent of when they were both eleven.

--"and _besides, _now she wants HARRY to come ALONE?" Petunia whispered.

Dudley shoved Harry in the shoulder and grinned. Harry waved his fingers at Dudley as though sparks might shoot out of them. Dudley pouted and moved a few inches away from him.

"Well, he's all ready promised to keep his gob shut!" Vernon protested. It seemed he was now awfully fond of the therapist. In fact, he loved anyone who bought his drills. It made him happier than anything. That was why everyone else in the family was now terribly worried.

Vernon now had faith in _Harry. _

"The… world," Dudley began slowly, turning to face Harry with an expression that could only be described as horror. "The world…"

"Yes, Dud?" Harry pressed. "The world…?"

"The world… is at… an end," Dudley replied, and shaking his head, he shuffled away.

Harry stared after him, afraid. After all, Dudley had never been concerned about the world before. This was serious.

* * *


End file.
